A Good Cry on Christmas Past
Christmas morning had me bawling this year.
Sobbing.
All the presents were opened, but one.
There it was.
A bright yellow package stapled and scrawled with careful young fingers.
There was expectation in the air as PB and Li'l Man handed over the bright, kid created package to me.
"For meeee?" I smiled. It was suspiciously labeled from "Santa or "someone else"
Hmmm...
That's quite a milestone when they start making gifts from Santa since they all still claim to believe. Perhaps I have told them, "Those who don't believe, don't receive," more than a couple of times. Heh!
Ah, one of their special homemade gifts, I thought. The one they had been hush, hush with all week.
You could feel their anticipation and giggles.
Obviously, I thought to myself, they think they've outdone themselves with a cute drawing or funny cartoon.
I carefully opened the package.
Puzzled I pulled out some crumpled hairy tissues. Uhhh...They looked used.
What?!
I started to think I'd been played. Those boogers. No wonder the giggles.
"Um, tissues?"
"No, mommy. Those are Grendel tears." Their innocent voices chorused.
I looked down at the white softness and saw evidence of melted mascara.
My heart started to crumple, "What?"
"Grendel tears." They repeated again.
Just the mention of my first Christmas without my pup in 14 years started the wetness to seep. I had been emotional the week before when I put up Seb's stocking, but left Grendel's in the crate.
We got Grendel the week before Christmas and often she had been likened to Santa's Little Helper.
It was even a tradition to take pictures of her and Seb in silly hats by the tree.
It just didn't seem like Christmas without my Grendel.
So there I sat a bit bemused looking at the tissues.
Then they explained.
They had collected some of my teary tissues from my heart-breaking morning of having to put my baby down in our kitchen less than three months ago.
It was the right decision. The cancer had ravaged her body. She was weak. She was listless. It was a struggle. It was my final gift to her.
And now I looked at my gift.
They had also collected the hair from Grendel's couch...yes, it still lingers. Grendel was a constant shedder.
Even so, each time I have vacuumed since, the hair in my clear Dyson container has changed each week. The container holds more fluffy, lighter pigmented Seb hair and less, and less of Grendel's sleek reddish, otter-like fur each week.
Sigh. I never thought I would miss the shedding, but I do.
Back to the package, I took one look at CG's gentle, concerned demeanor and I lost it.
I keened out my yearning for Grendel like I hadn't in months.
I sobbed at the poignancy of the tissues.
I bawled at the incredible thoughtfulness and compassionate nature of my kiddos.
I sobbed while my kids bewildered faces looked on. They thought I would be pleased.
They did not know yet that I was.
I was happy.
Those were happy tears.
And that is why I had a good cry on Christmas Day.
I filled those tissues again with Grendel tears.
Sobbing.
All the presents were opened, but one.
There it was.
A bright yellow package stapled and scrawled with careful young fingers.
There was expectation in the air as PB and Li'l Man handed over the bright, kid created package to me.
"For meeee?" I smiled. It was suspiciously labeled from "Santa or "someone else"
Hmmm...
That's quite a milestone when they start making gifts from Santa since they all still claim to believe. Perhaps I have told them, "Those who don't believe, don't receive," more than a couple of times. Heh!
Ah, one of their special homemade gifts, I thought. The one they had been hush, hush with all week.
You could feel their anticipation and giggles.
Obviously, I thought to myself, they think they've outdone themselves with a cute drawing or funny cartoon.
I carefully opened the package.
Puzzled I pulled out some crumpled hairy tissues. Uhhh...They looked used.
What?!
I started to think I'd been played. Those boogers. No wonder the giggles.
"Um, tissues?"
"No, mommy. Those are Grendel tears." Their innocent voices chorused.
I looked down at the white softness and saw evidence of melted mascara.
My heart started to crumple, "What?"
"Grendel tears." They repeated again.
Just the mention of my first Christmas without my pup in 14 years started the wetness to seep. I had been emotional the week before when I put up Seb's stocking, but left Grendel's in the crate.
We got Grendel the week before Christmas and often she had been likened to Santa's Little Helper.
It was even a tradition to take pictures of her and Seb in silly hats by the tree.
It just didn't seem like Christmas without my Grendel.So there I sat a bit bemused looking at the tissues.
Then they explained.
They had collected some of my teary tissues from my heart-breaking morning of having to put my baby down in our kitchen less than three months ago.
It was the right decision. The cancer had ravaged her body. She was weak. She was listless. It was a struggle. It was my final gift to her.
And now I looked at my gift.
They had also collected the hair from Grendel's couch...yes, it still lingers. Grendel was a constant shedder.
Even so, each time I have vacuumed since, the hair in my clear Dyson container has changed each week. The container holds more fluffy, lighter pigmented Seb hair and less, and less of Grendel's sleek reddish, otter-like fur each week.
Sigh. I never thought I would miss the shedding, but I do.
Back to the package, I took one look at CG's gentle, concerned demeanor and I lost it.
I keened out my yearning for Grendel like I hadn't in months.I sobbed at the poignancy of the tissues.
I bawled at the incredible thoughtfulness and compassionate nature of my kiddos.
I sobbed while my kids bewildered faces looked on. They thought I would be pleased.
They did not know yet that I was.
I was happy.
Those were happy tears.
And that is why I had a good cry on Christmas Day.
I filled those tissues again with Grendel tears.
